Carson Evolved Ch. 03

Sam's eyes sparkled. "Are you sure you don't need me along tonight? I'd hate to think you didn't fulfill your obligations completely," she said with a smirk. The innuendo was not lost on Carson, and it just renewed his unease about the situation.

"I love you too, dear," he said in mock surrender. There was no winning this contest; Sam was finding far too much enjoyment in his unease.

As he turned to go, Sam took one more shot. "We'll have breakfast ready for you in the morning. You'll need to get your energy back up." All of his wives giggled when he shook his head, refusing to look their way. Even Helena had a smirk, though she suggested to the others after Carson left that they might want to ease up until he got further into the swing of things with Orriri.

"What fun is that?" asked Mara, playfully, which just resulted in a new round of giggles.

As he approached the transport, Edwards opened the door. "Good evening, sir."

"Hello, my friend," replied Carson, as he took his seat. "I hope you're doing well."

"Always, sir. Always," answered the giant man, before closing the door.

They'd been on the road for a several minutes before Carson realized that they weren't taking the usual route to the tower. When he asked about it, Edwards said, "Mrs. Voss requested that you meet her and her husband for drinks. We're headed to a social club they are a part of. My apologies for the last-minute change in plans."

"It's not really a problem. Just curious." Carson lapsed back into his own thoughts. He was replaying the conversation over dinner in his mind. He was adjusting to his new life, quickly in some areas, but glacially in others. It was all so alien. If you'd asked 15-year old Carson Jayne what his life would be like in ten or fifteen years, he might have gotten the career in law correct. He probably would have assumed that he'd have the love of a good woman in his life. But...the life that an almost 30-year old Carson was leading would have been beyond the realm of possibilities.

"Edwards, I've enjoyed getting to know you better. You seem to be a philosophical man. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, sir."

"This evening, my wives were trying to convince me that I should establish relationships with several other women. They said something about how the women would recognize something in me that would make them want me as well."

Edwards said, "That does seem to be the way of things for men involved in the project."

"Here's the thing: I'm struggling with a couple of things. I have a hard time thinking of myself as anything special, so I'm not sure I buy into the idea that I'm going to have the kind of impact of a wide variety of women. The other thing is, how do I reconcile having a baby with women that I barely know, if I know them at all?"

"You pose some interesting questions, Mr. Jayne," replied Edwards. "The second question is perhaps easier to answer than the first. Unless she's raped, a woman having a baby is an exercise of her own agency. It's her body, and if she desires to have a baby, she can probably make it happen in a number of ways. She could have anonymous, unprotected sex with a stranger. She might visit a fertility clinic and choose a donor based on his physical characteristics. It could just be an accident. The point is, the man is involved only to a point, unless the woman desires him to be. If she never tells him that he's going to be a father, does he have responsibilities to the child? You seem to be looking at it from a very traditional sense, but that's not a great reflection of the world we live in today. With male fertility rates falling, I suspect that you'll see an increasing number of women seeking less conventional ways of having children.

"As to your first question: It's not a perfect fit, but it brings to mind something that the philosopher and teacher Plato once wrote. 'Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing, always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.' Perhaps your wives believe that the song of your heart whispers in a way that completes the songs of many hearts. Again, this comes down to the woman's agency. You may try to whisper into the hearts of many women, and maybe it's true that the majority of them will whisper back. But if you are not forcing them into anything, then you are only offering an option that they can either choose or not. It doesn't mean that you think yourself more highly than anyone else. I'd argue that the debate we're having is evidence that you are better than many men. Regardless, you are still only making your availability known, not dictating the feelings or actions of the women you advertise to."

Carson marveled at how it seemed that every time he spoke with the gentle giant, he gained a valuable insight into humanity. "You really are an amazing man, Edwards."

"Thank you, sir."

"You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but I wonder if you'd be interested in being a part of the project? I don't know the process entirely, but I do know that we can suggest candidates," said Carson.

For the first time since he'd met the man, Carson could see that Edwards was at a loss for words. He seemed to be struggling with his response. Finally, he said, "You have no idea how honored I am that you would offer to sponsor me. Unfortunately, I am unable to father children. Growing up in my country was difficult. We had a great many resources, and we were wealthy. Unfortunately, we naively believed that our peaceful commitment to non-aggression would insulate us from other countries that desired our resources. While my mother was pregnant with me, an engineered disease was introduced into the population by the military of a neighboring country. It didn't have any effect on adult men, but for a time, every male baby was born sterile. Obviously, the impact of this disease was unknown until my generation began to mature. By then, the damage was significant enough that we began to have a population decline. Now, our country is withering on the vine."

Carson was absolutely horrified at the man's story. "My God, Edwards. I am so sorry to...words fail me. How can you know this and be the kind of man that you are?"

The giant smiled sadly. "There was a time when my anger controlled me. I lashed out, joined a guerrilla organization, attempted to infiltrate that country and destroy it from within. One day I woke up at the site of an attack. I'd taken a blow to the head in the fighting and my comrades thought I'd died. I sat up and looked at the devastation around me. Burned out storefronts, apartment buildings collapsed, rubble everywhere. And several feet away, there was a little boy, maybe nine or ten years old. His eyes were still open, looking right at me, but his skull was caved in on one side of his head and an arm was torn from his shoulder. In his other hand, he still held a toy rifle.

"I looked at his torn and broken body, and I wept. I looked at my hands, the blood of the last man I'd killed was still crusted on my fingernails. I realized that I could kill and maim and destroy for the rest of my life, but it would never change the facts of my life, nor alter the course of mankind. As I sat there, I felt hollow. After I struggled to my feet, I began walking, and I never looked back. I became a sojourner, looking for new ways to improve humanity. I studied philosophy and religion, spoke with people from many countries and all walks of life. Much of what I found was disappointment, because the loftiest goals have been used to commit the most horrible of atrocities throughout history. One day, I came across a man like your Mr. Sloane, who told me about Orriri. For some reason, its goals seemed to click in my mind as a truly novel way to help improve the state of man.

"So, here we are."

"Here we are," agreed Carson.

Edwards chuckled. "Here we are," he repeated as he nodded towards the club. Carson chuckled in amusement at the double entendre.

The valet opened the door, and Carson started to exit the vehicle. He stopped and turned to his friend. "You are truly a special man, my friend. And I am a better man because I know you. Don't ever forget that."

For the second time, Edwards was speechless.

Carson barely had to pause as he passed the doorman. Either the man was taking a chance based on Carson's arrival, or more likely, this was an Orriri-owned club and the man's tablet indicated his VIP status. Either way, he had the barrier disabled before Carson was within three feet of it, allowing his to stroll on into the club. As he bypassed the door for the dance area, the heavy bass and frenetic rhythm of electronica vibrated the walls and floor.

He stepped through the understated VIP entrance, his Omnix communicating with the system to unlock the door. At the end of a short corridor was the hostess, who greeted him by name before he could speak. "Good evening, Mr. Jayne. It's a pleasure to have you here this evening. Your party is right this way."

He followed after the woman. She was dressed smartly in a black sleeveless pantsuit with fine white pinstripes. The tailoring was fantastic, and the long lines of the style showcased the same from her body. The décor of the room was luxurious, more old-world than new, decorated in dark wood and brass fixtures. The heavy velvet wall coverings in tasteful shades of red and gray provided a nice accent. Indirect lighting from the recessed ceiling and wall sconces gave the room a soft, warm feel. All around the large open space were groupings of couches and chairs that created little faux living rooms. The use of the close proximity cleverly created a cozy atmosphere. It naturally caused people to make physical contact and lean into their conversations with each other. Carson was impressed with the design. As they weaved through the tables in the room, Carson was also pleasantly surprised to note that there was no trace of the thumping dance music in the adjacent room. Instead, there was a pleasant, low-volume track of jazz behind the murmurs of the clientele.

Carson hadn't seen Calla Voss since the day she shaved his balls and performed the procedure to enlarge his semen reservoir. Even then, he hadn't paid a whole lot of attention to her. In the warm lighting of the club, her skin glowed softly. At the clinic, she'd had her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, but she'd apparently cut it since then. Now, she sported a messy pixie cut with long bangs that draped over her left eyebrow. It was a great look for her, accentuating the high cheekbones of her triangular face and bringing attention to her almond-shaped eyes, which had a slight downturn. She was wearing a pair of bright yellow-colored contact lenses, which was an unexpected touch, but they contrasted nicely with her light cinnamon skin tone. Her slinky little black dress was asymmetrical, with a single strap over her right shoulder. Carson viewed the entire package when she stood as he arrived, and he couldn't help himself. He grinned and mouthed "Wow!" to her to show his appreciation for her beauty. She smiled and flowed into his arms.

It caught Carson off-guard, but the feel of her body against his was nice. They both knew what he was here for, so he didn't feel any need to fake his reaction. She inhaled his scent, much the way she had in the exam room, and then she reached up and pulled his face down to kiss hers. She was clearly on edge already; her actions held an urgency that Carson picked up on.

He stopped her with a smile and said, "Hi."

She giggled in embarrassment. "Sorry," she said, "I've been looking forward to tonight for what seems like a very long time."

"No problem," he said. "But let's not rush things; we've got all night."

Calla took him by the hand and pulled him over the couch she'd been sitting on. The waitress arrived just as he sat down, and Carson ordered a Foghorn. It didn't seem a whiskey kind of night. Calla drew his attention to a nice-looking man sitting on an adjacent couch. "Carson, this is my husband, Kiefer."

This moment was one that Carson had hoped to avoid. He felt awkward about this, knowing he was going to take this woman to bed this evening with the intention of impregnating her.

As the man stood to shake his hand, Calla said, "Kiefer, this the man who's going to give us a baby, Carson Jayne."

"Thank you for doing this, Mr. Jayne," said Kiefer. "You don't know what this means to us."

Carson what taken aback at the man's casual approach to the situation. He chuckled and said, "Well, I suppose I should say it will be my pleasure. Your wife is a beautiful young woman. I think you're a lucky man."

Everyone took a seat, and the waitress delivered their orders. Kiefer said to Carson, "I quite agree, Mr. Jayne. I've known Calla was the one for me since we were 15 years old. The day she agreed to be my wife was the happiest day of my life."

Clearing his throat, Carson said, "I hope you don't mind my asking, but I'm new to...all this. I'm a little curious about how we came to be here together this evening."

Calla said, "We've been married for six years now, trying to have a baby for almost three. With no luck, we got tested. That's when we found out that Kiefer can't father children. I'd already been working at the clinic for a while. As you no doubt know, one of the benefits for employees is guaranteed access to the clinic's bank of donors, at no charge."

"Did you try artificial insemination?" asked Carson.

Calla looked at her husband for a second, who looked away, before she grinned and said, "No, we didn't." Who would choose surgery over getting fucked by that big ole cock of yours?

Carson looked around in confusion. He'd been looking at Calla as she spoke, and he was sure that she hadn't said anything about his cock. Shaking it off, he said, "I'm confused. If you wanted a baby, and you have access to the services, why not go that route?"

She slid over to sit a little closer to Carson. She put a hand on his thigh and said, "When my husband found out he was sterile, it put him into a tailspin. I love him, so I did all that I could to try and help him over his depression. I tried all sorts of things to help him understand that I enjoyed being with him, regardless of whether we got pregnant or not. Nothing seemed to work, and I was getting frustrated and depressed myself.

"Then came what we refer to as 'The Night.' We'd both been drinking pretty heavily one night when we started to fool around. We were just getting into it when he just broke down. I'll never forget what he said. 'You should go find a real man to give you a baby.' Honestly, I'd never equated his ability to father a child with his manhood. In my frustration, though, I'd finally had enough. I was so pissed at him that I slapped his face and yelled at him. 'You'd like that, wouldn't you? You want me to go out and find some stud to knock me up and then make you raise his child? Is that what you want? You want me to find a real man with a big cock, and balls that actually work, to put a baby in my belly?'

Looking at Carson, she said, "I swear to you, at the time, I didn't mean any of it. I was just so angry. But the funniest thing happened," she said with a smirk, glancing over at Kiefer. "In the middle of my little tirade, Kiefer got harder than I'd ever seen him. I mean, he was ready to pop. I felt him beneath me and I just lost it. 'Oh, someone likes the idea of me getting pregnant with a real man's baby, huh?' I started rubbing my pussy against his cock, teasing him about it, and he just kept getting more and more excited.

"Finally, I straddled him, sliding his cock inside and started riding. But the whole time I was doing it, I kept saying the meanest, nastiest things I could think of, and he just kept agreeing with all of it. I said, 'Think about it, I'm going to find a guy with a big cock that I know can get the job done. I'm going to ride him until he packs my pussy with so much cum I can't help but get knocked up. If it doesn't happen the first time, I'll keep going until someone gets the job done. Obviously, your little dick isn't going to do it.'" She leaned towards Carson, and whispered conspiratorially, "I don't mean any of it. My husband satisfies me just fine. But he gets off on the humiliation." After tonight, we'll see if that's still the case. I'm going to make him cry while Carson is pounding my pussy.

Carson looked at Calla intently. I must be hornier than I thought, he said to himself. I could have sworn I heard her say that. With a small shake of his head, he took a sip of his drink and asked, "So that brings us to tonight?"

"Not exactly," she said. "Once we figured out how much the idea excited my husband, we decided to play for a while. We've been members at this club for almost two years now. We come two or three times a month, and I find some guy who tickles my fancy, and we spend the night together, pretending that he's going to knock me up. Kiefer just watches to make sure I'm safe. Once we decided that it was time to go ahead and try to get pregnant, we talked about going with artificial insemination. Then, you came into the clinic. I knew that day that I wanted you to father our children. Sam somehow knew what I was thinking, because she asked me if I wanted you to father my baby, and then she said she'd try and get it done. I thought she meant in vitro fertilization. But when she called me last week to see if I might be interested in spending the night with you instead, I thought we might be able to make this a night to remember."

There were so many conflicting emotions running through Carson's mind. He didn't know Calla at all, but he did find her attractive. Obviously, his wives were on board with what he was supposed to do this evening. And, apparently, her husband was almost as excited as she was. Carson would never understand that mindset, but, to each his own...

He leaned in and softly asked, "How should we do this?"

Calla picked up on what he was doing and laughed a little. "You are new at this, aren't you? Carson, look around. There's no need to be coy about what's happening here." He took her advice and scanned the room. Somehow, in the time since he'd arrived, couples and small groups had gotten much, much, friendlier. Maybe it had already been happening and he just didn't notice before. In one corner, there was a long-legged blonde woman bent over the arm of a couch while a fairly short black man pounded into her. In another part of the room, an overweight Hispanic woman with some of the largest breasts Carson had ever seen was writhing atop a rail-thin white man. While he watched, a woman just as thin as the guy on the bottom approached the couple while wearing an enormous strapon. The Hispanic woman slowed her bucking long enough for the dildo to slide into her ass, before she began riding both. Carson was amused at the ability of the lovers to synchronize their movements.

His attention was drawn back to Calla when he felt her straddle his hips, her arms draped over his shoulders. "See anything you want to try?"

Carson rested his hands on her hips, enjoying the feel as she moved in small circles. He allowed his excitement to show, which elicited a groan of appreciation from Calla. "I'm not especially shy," he said, "but I was thinking something a little more private for now."

She gave him a mock pout. "Ah, you won't let me suck you off here in front of everyone so they know what I'm getting?"

He chuckled. "It'd only be to show off. You and I both know that I'm going to last as long as you want, so you don't have to get the first one out of the way early."